


TOUCH OF SIN

by felandaris



Series: Another Place And Time [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unrequited Love, fereldan beef sausage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: Alistair, Alistair's hand and a heart full of longing... with amazing NSFW art by the one and only Feylen!





	TOUCH OF SIN

**Author's Note:**

> This had gotten a bit of attention on Tumblr, but I'd never posted it here, so there ya go!

Murky August air sat heavy in the clammy tent. Cricket chirps mingled with distant voices, blending into splinters of song and laughter.

Alistair huffed, flipping once more on his tatty bedroll. His back ached and his head was beginning to follow suit as the alcohol was wearing off. He’d tried counting nugs and forcing slow breaths for what must have been close to an hour. But sleep wouldn’t come. And another _ache_ was making itself known.

From within the blur of chatter he made out a giggle- giddy, melodic and far-too alluring. Grinding his teeth, he turned the other way, kicking flimsy blankets in frustration. But the chirpy laughter still found his ears, mocking him. Alistair sighed. He’d already retreated from the campfire, no doubt appearing rude excusing himself just as she was starting on another Highever ballad.

And _Maker_ , her singing voice- The memory of homesick lyrics and dreamy melodies, delivered in a clear alto, brought on an unmistakeable twitch. “Great.”

Alistair threw a disdainful glance towards his pants, already tenting out. He cursed himself- his weak mind and treacherous body; that infuriating tendency to find the most inappropriate thoughts at the worst of times. And even now his sordid imagination wasn’t resting, luring him with ever-new images.

_Silken hair playing around a slim neck, swaying with her motions; Fluid, wine-fuelled shakes of her hips, timid yet knowing; Round outlines under her shirt; perfect handfuls bouncing gently as she danced_. He sat up on his elbows, lamenting his waning resolve.

A sudden gust of wind teased along his bare chest, tantalising sensitive skin and evoking another blighted twitch below his waistline. With an annoyed grunt Alistair pushed down his pants, sighing as his length sprang free- whether in resignation or relief. Eyeing his penis, half-hard and waiting, he bit his lip, hoping the sting would ease the shameful burn in his chest. Being a young man in good health, Alistair couldn’t deny having touched himself before. Especially ever since this _Warden stamina_ had surprised him one night in a cold ( _and not exactly soundproof_ ) tent he’d had to succumb to his urges time and again.

His exertions, however, had always involved fictional women. Some Templar or Warden would always have paraded around their stack of drawings- pretty features, shapely bodies and empty expressions. Never had he done that to the thought of an actual person, someone he fought and laughed with. Someone classy, clever, striking and altogether too pure for this rotten world.

“Elissa.”

His own voice alerted him to his right hand’s progress towards the thatch of auburn where curious fingertips were now grazing over his growing erection. For a moment Alistair allowed his eyes to fall shut, concentrating on the feather-light touch on his most delicate skin; a languid up and down, each little brush stoking the need in his loins. Much as he tried he couldn’t help picturing her fingers, tracing the hard curve down to the base, cupping his sac. _Would she gasp at the feel of him? Might she stick out her tongue in concentration as he swelled under her hands? And would she say his name?_

A sudden rush of desire had him closing his fist around himself, sighing as the meaty weight filled his palm. Propping an arm behind his head, he snuck a glance down. The sight of his arousal proved oddly enticing- a solid shaft, thick in his hand, wrapped in silken skin and peppered with little moles and veins. Each downward pump revealed the head, an irate purple even in the twilight.

All propriety gone, he let go for a reluctant instant to produce an indiscriminate bottle from his pack. The wound ointment wasn’t laced with any sharp or burning herbs and made for a suitable _aid_. A moan escaped him as he coated his eager length in warm slick. His hips began rocking into his hand, smooth and wet, and he found himself tweaking a tiny nipple, evoking a gasp.

Again the despicable part of his mind imagined Elissa seeing him like this- stark naked, sweaty and painfully aroused. Emerald eyes would grow wide and she’d roll a lock of hair on a finger as she breathed a little _oh_ the way only she did.

The mere thought of her voice, hushed and raspy, had Alistair’s hips bucking. Lewd images progressed on their own account- _worn linen rolling off well-defined shoulders; nifty fingers fumbling with buttons as she held his stare; rosy peaks puckering, begging for his lips_.

Alistair’s left wandered down to cup his sac, drawing up as pleasure tingled deep in his core. His fist gripped tighter, creating wet, obscene sounds as he thrust upwards. _Was this what a woman, what_ she _felt like?_ Alistair groaned in between heavy breaths, his pelvis rising and thighs tense. Desire had long won over guilt, and control ebbed from him, giving way to a tingle radiating from curled toes to flushed cheeks. Lust had lulled his senses into taking lonely grunts for affectionate whispers; frantic pumps for the loving journey of intertwined fingers; emptiness for the warm, welcoming body he’d been craving for months. Illusions of sweet moans and supple breasts, of fragrant skin and willing lips tugged at his pelvis, directed his wrist’s flicks, drew a pearl of moisture from his crown. Songs, giggles and moans echoed in his head, a pert bosom danced before his mental eye.

Somewhere between her phantom enunciation of his name and the imagined taste of her skin a bolt of pleasure shot rose from his sac, shooting through his shaft, his chest, his being. Alistair’s hip stuttered and his mouth fell open on a drawn-out, breathless _ah_ as creamy hot sin spurted from him, onto his fist, marking his bed. The world drowned out for a blissful second, leaving only her smile and utter fulfilment.

When climax set him down, Alistair’s limbs sagged along with his heart. Heavy breaths lengthened as his pulse slowed and arousal’s prickle drowned out into heavy lethargy. He should have been content as his body was, should have granted himself a lazy smile. But shame had returned, twisting sickly in his stomach, colouring his face a burning crimson. Glaring at his palm, covered in spend, Alistair frowned, tears stinging tired eyes.

“Despicable,” he hissed, reaching for the cloth to clean up his sorry mess. Once done he sank onto his back, fatigue mercifully cutting short his remorse. Elissa’s smile, the lovable dimples around her chin were his last thoughts before the Fade claimed him.

So suddenly did sleep come, Alistair never heard the light-footed steps drawing a hasty trail from his tent to his fellow Warden’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me (and the boys) [on Tumblr](https://cullenstairshenanigans.tumblr.com) and now [on Facebook! ](https://www.facebook.com/FelandarisFanFic)


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